Monday, April 20, 2009
by Rachelle Reese
Proudly you parade your newborn child
past the grave of the man who raised your mother from a calf.
You never knew him, having entered the world nearly
one year after he was buried in the field he cleared by hand.
But somehow you seem to know that your firstborn calf is strong because of him,
so you turn your head toward his rocky mound and give him thanks.